


Hospitality is a Great Gift

by wbh



Category: Deadwood, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I just really wanted my two favorite characters to meet idk, an angel in a hardware store, philosophical musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbh/pseuds/wbh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his first day back at Star and Bullock Hardware after being shot, Sol entertains a very unusual customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospitality is a Great Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I love Castiel and I love Sol Star so....here you go. This takes place during S5 of Supernatural, when Cas is hunting for God, and during S2 of Deadwood, after Sol was shot.

Sol settled into his stool behind the counter, sighing in contentment. It felt good to go through his normal morning routine, without laudanum clouding his senses or Trixie hovering over every little thing he did. She’d stormed off that morning. All he’d done was calmly insist he could open the hardware store on his own. He’d smiled as she’d turned on her heel and marched out the door, calling over her shoulder “Don’t expect me to fetch the doc when you pass out in your own store, Sol Star!” It was good to have things back to normal.

Sol didn’t know where Seth was, but that had become par for the course as well. He sighed again, shaking his head a little to himself at the fresh nonsense Bullock was no doubt stirring up at that very moment. Bullock and Star Hardware it may be, but Sol had long felt like the sole proprietor.

The small movement of his head jerked his shoulder the wrong way, and Sol winced. He had been happy to trade a clear head for some small pain, but the bullet wound was even more bothersome than he’d imagined such a thing would be. Having his arm in the sling helped, but the wound was still a near-constant throb. He had to be careful how he turned his head, or movement from his neck would send pain flaring down his arm. He hoped some day he’d be able to use the arm as he had, without feeling the echo of the gunshot, but the doc hadn’t seemed optimistic on that point. All men carried their scars, he supposed, though it didn’t ease his irritation to know it. 

He turned to his books, prepared for a morning of correcting mistakes that had no doubt been made to the inventory and money ledgers during his convalescence. Seth was a good friend but he didn’t have the best eye for detail. Certainly the events of the last few days would have left the store low on his list of priorities.

Sol had been working quietly for some time before someone walked into the store. He looked up to greet his customer. 

“Can I help you?” came out of Sol’s mouth automatically, before he’d had a chance to take a good look at the man who’d entered his store. He gave Sol pause, to say the least. The man was tall and well-built, with dark hair and a dour expression on his face. None of that would have been out of place in Deadwood, but the man’s attire was distinctly out of place. His shoes had the kind of shine to them Sol had last seen back East, on the feet of monied individuals. Though how he’d managed to walk through the mud of the street to get to the hardware store without dirtying them, Sol didn’t know. His trousers were of a strange cut, low on his hips and also mud-free. His rumpled, long tan coat was perhaps the only part of his wardrobe that didn’t look out of place, but the too-shiny buttons along the side stuck out to Sol as not quite right. There was something unsettling about the man, like he was in the wrong place in more ways than the physical.

He hadn’t yet responded to Sol’s greeting. Instead, the man was looking around the hardware store with a frown. He then glared at something in his hand. It might have been a small coin or amulet. Sol was too far away to be sure.

“No, I don’t believe you can,” the man finally responded, shoving whatever it was into the pocket of his overcoat. He had a surprisingly deep, harsh voice.

“You sure?” Sol had never been the kind of man to pass up a chance on a sale. “Got all the prospecting gear you could ask for, if you’re looking to head up to the hills.”

The man turned toward Sol and squinted at him. “Do you believe in God?” he asked, without any preamble.

Sol was slightly taken aback, but decided to wait and see where this conversation was going. “Some people might argue the point with me, but yeah, I do,” Sol said, hedging a bit. He’d never been one to deny his heritage, but this felt like a delicate situation.

The man nodded slowly, like Sol’s response made perfect sense to him. Sol wasn’t sure he’d even made sense to himself. 

“It’s been hard, lately,” the man said, “to keep my faith. I know going back this far was desperate...I’d looked everywhere in the present. The land, the sea….I even walked the canyons of Mars. So I changed my tactics, searched key moments in the turning of things. But I don’t think he’s here. Another mistake. A waste of time and energy.”

Sol made a noncommittal noise in response to that strange statement. He had no idea what the man was going on about, but he wished he could find a way to stop him looking so upset.

“Forgive me,” the man continued, shaking his head a little. “I haven’t really had anyone else to talk to recently. Sam and Dean are very busy as well.”

“I think every man needs someone to hear his troubles now and then,” Sol said. “Could be the ear of a stranger is best for working some things out.” Sol paused. No need to remain strangers. “I’m Sol Star.”

“Castiel,” the man offered as his name in return. Odd fellow indeed. He stood in silence for a moment, staring at Sol with intense blue eyes. 

“Hospitality is a great gift,” Castiel said solemnly, gazing directly and intently into Sol’s eyes. Sol wasn’t the kind of fellow often put ill at ease, but the staring was becoming unnerving.

No point in being impolite though. “Don’t worry, I offer it free of charge,” he replied, smiling.

Castiel looked away, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. He approached the counter, and Sol hoped that meant he was planning on buying something.

Instead, Castiel leaned over the counter toward him, too far into his space for comfort. Before Sol could react much, Castiel spoke softly.

“I’ll pay for it nonetheless,” he said, and lightly touched two fingers to Sol’s forehead. Sol jerked back, unnerved by the behavior, but he was soon distracted by something even stranger. He felt….good.

Sol almost missed the man leaving. Castiel slipped out as quietly as he’d entered. Sol was too amazed by the lack of pain and stiffness in his shoulder to pay it much mind. He removed his arm from the sling, moving and flexing his muscles and marvelling at how it felt like he’d never been shot.

He glanced at the door, and swallowed hard. He had a feeling the man wouldn’t be back. And another, stronger feeling that no one else in camp would be able to corroborate his claim Castiel had ever been in Deadwood at all.

He put the useless sling on the counter and turned back to his ledgers. It would be best if he didn’t speak of this, he decided. To anyone. Trixie would just be happy he was well again, and Seth was too distracted with his own troubles to notice Sol’s lack of them. 

Best, indeed, to hold the encounter close. He wouldn’t go looking too far for an explanation. Some events were better left treasured, and unexplored.


End file.
